The Addict
by ShanBell
Summary: Spencer Reid got clean five years ago. But now, as his life spirals out of control again, he's left with the only thing that can make him numb. Dilaudid.
1. Dilaudid

Dilaudid. My escape. The thing that made me forget. Forget about the bullying, my Dad, Tobias, and the hurt. Yes, it worked for quite some time.

I'd call my dealer, and he would give me exactly what I want. When I started to withdrawal, the team noticed. I tried to get my hands to stop shaking, I tried to not get mad at people so easily, but I was on edge. I needed it. So usually, every day, after work, I would take the needle and vial out of my brown box in my nightstand drawer, and inject the drug, welcoming me to a world of haze.

By the time I started missing days at work, and started to get bags under my eyes, I knew the team found out. Hotch would glance at me when I started to shake, and I knew he wanted to say something, but never did. Derek would tell me constantly that I could talk to him whenever, that he was always there for me. It was getting annoying. I never exactly knew why I started doing Dilaudid, but maybe it was because the first few times Tobias injected it in me.

The haze I felt. I loved it. It made me forget about all the pain through my life. I just needed more after that. But then, after a day of me spending One- hundred dollars on Dilaudid, I knew I had a problem.

That's what started my recovery. But of course, because I fuck everything up, it didn't work completely.

Author's note: Please read and review! Thanks! 


	2. The Dealer

I look at the thin piece of paper in my hand, wanting so badly to just get the nerve to dial the number on the paper. This is a horrible idea. But I need this. I pick up my cellphone, and slowly dial my dealer's number. My hands are shaking, like they usually do when I'm nervous.

It's my day off, and somehow this thought came to mind. Which is a bad, bad idea. I put the phone up to my ear, and wait for him to pick up. I've been sober for Five years.

I haven't been needing it at all, but lately, the craving is back. Maybe it's the work stress. Maybe it's because I've been thinking of Mauve. I don't really know. The annoying rings rung in my ear a few times, bringing me back to the present.

Jake Smith, my dealer since I first started doing Dilaudid, answers.

"Hello?" He asks, and I take a deep breath.

"Jake? It's Spencer." I say nervously, fidgeting with a button on my shirt.

I hear a long pause on the other end, and then a laugh.

"Spencer? Spencer Reid? Your back, are you?" He asks, and I glare at the wall.

"Yeah, enough with the jokes. How much you got?" I ask, slightly annoyed.

"Depends on how much money you have." He says, and I sigh.

He always was a cocky asshole.

"How does Fifty- dollars sound?" I ask, knowing I should start small.

"That sounds good. Where do you want to pick it up?" He asks.

"I'll just pick it up at your house. Same address?" I ask, and Jake laughs lightly.

"Yeah, glad you remember. And by the way, I sort of missed my favourite customer." He says, and I know he's smirking.

"Yeah, right, Jake. I'll be there soon. Bye." I say, and hang up.

I put my head in my hands. What am I doing? This is a horrible idea, but I need to forget. Maybe I need it because of the slow depression I'm sinking into. Whatever it is, I'm numbing it. It's a horrible method, but it worked the last time.

Author's note: Sorry for the short chapter:( But read and review!:)


	3. Relapse

My hands shake as I hold the vials in my hand, and the needle made a faint sound as it jittered in my hands. Once I got home, I went right into my bedroom, ready to take it. But it's been Twenty- minutes, and I'm still here, sitting on my bed, debating it. Jake had thrown in a "gift", which was heroin. I tried to refuse, but he persisted.

So now, I have five vials of Dilaudid, and one of heroin. Oh my God, what am I doing? I take the needle, putting the Dilaudid in it, which is difficult, because my hands are shaking so badly. I roll up my sleeve, looking for the best place to inject it. I wasn't really an expert at it when I was doing it last time, but I wasn't that bad.

I feel around for the veins, and settle at the crook of my elbow. I take in a deep breath, and push down the needle. I need to feel numb. Almost instantly, the effects start to kick in, and I feel that familiar wave of numbness go over my body, and I fall back on my bed. Then it all goes black.

I open my eyes slowly, the blurry room coming into focus. What the..? Oh wait. Right. I shield my eyes from the sun coming through my window, and I look beside me, to see the needle laying beside my arm.

Six vials lay beside it, one with it's cap off. Suddenly guilt washes over me, as I take in the scene. I relapsed. I fucking relapsed. I feel tears come into my eyes, and I get up, pacing the room.

What the fuck is wrong with me?! It took two years to stop doing Dilaudid! I angrily punch a wall, and cry out in pain. Fuck. I look down at my hand, to see it red and throbbing.

I hold it gently, and try to make a fist.

"Ow!" I cry, and I know my hand is broken.

I'm so fucking stupid! I sigh angrily, and grab my keys from my nightstand. I don't want to fuck up my hand more, so I might as well go to the clinic. I roll down my sleeves, and put the needle and vials away in my brown box in my nightstand. Then I make my way out of the apartment, and down to my car.

I click the button on my key, and my blue Ford's headlights light up. I get into my car, and make my way to the clinic.

Author's note: Again, a short chapter:( Sorry! But I'm trying to make them longer. Please Read and Review! Thanks:)


	4. Numb

"What happened to your hand?" JJ asks, as I sit down at my desk.

I put on a normal expression, as I took out my paperwork.

"Accidentally threw it into a wall." I say, realizing how stupid that sounds.

JJ raises an eyebrow. She doesn't seem convinced.

"Oh. I'm sorry about that." She says, and we both look over to Derek's desk as he drops his bag on his desk.

He smirks.

"Am I interrupting something?" He asks, and I shake my head.

I start to look at my paperwork, wanting to end the conversation. JJ smiles at us, then leaves. Derek throws a paper ball at my head, and I glare at him.

"What happened to your hand?" He asks, suddenly noticing the silver brace on my right hand.

"Accidentally threw it into a wall." I mumble, looking back at my paperwork.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Derek raise an eyebrow. He doesn't seem convinced either.

"How did you manage that?" Of course he has to ask more questions then JJ.

I shrug.

"Just did." I say.

Derek states at me for a few seconds, before starting on his own paperwork.

"Right. Well, when you want to tell me what really happened, I'm right here." He says, and I glance at him.

He's reading his papers, not bothering to look at me.

"Right." I say, and start on my paperwork.

I am so not going to tell them I punched a wall. Then they will ask why, and I'm not telling them that either. I don't want them to be disappointed in me, I've worked so hard in building up my maturity level to them. I was always the youngest member to them, and they always treated me like I needed to be protected. Which I don't have to be.

I'm a grown man, I can do things for myself. I also don't want to lose my job. Or my friends. Because who knows? Maybe they've finally had enough of me, if I tell them I started doing drugs again.

I really hope not.

I sigh as I drop my bag on the couch, and walk over to the kitchen. It was a long day at work. With Derek glancing at me constantly, Garcia being her hyper self, and constant paperwork, I'm just exhausted. I get out the coffee, milk, and sugar, and start the coffee machine. As I put in the coffee grounds, and the water in the filter and in the pot, I yawn.

It's only 5:00 pm, and I don't want to go to bed yet. and sit down at my kitchen table. Surprisingly, I feel lonely. I always thought that I could be by myself, have no one for company, and that would be fine, but lately, I've been thinking the opposite. Yes, I have my friends, but usually I only see them at work.

Derek and I sometimes watch the football game at his house, and have some Pizza, but usually that's a no- talking thing. When Derek watched football, he's in the zone. I think it's boring. I'd rather watch a documentary or something. Sports sort of got ruined for me as a kid.

Yes, I wasn't fit, but I still wanted to enjoy sports. But I got bullied for being terrible at it, so you know, I sort of dropped that. I like basketball. Sort of. I almost beat Derek every- time, which is hilarious.

But reading is more my thing. I've suddenly stopped reading as much. I only read five books last week. Usually I read about ten. I look at the coffee pot, to see its full.

I've been sitting here for thirty minutes? Wow. I pour out the coffee, in my white mug, and add three spoonfuls of sugar and pour some milk in. I stir it, and walk over to the kitchen table. As the black liquid turns a light brown, the smell drifts up to my nose, and I smile.

Coffee is practically my life. I don't eat that much, and I haven't really had an appetite lately. I sip my coffee, loving the taste of the liquid going down my throat. I stare ahead of me at my plain white couch and flat screen T.V.. My apartment is actually really sparse.

In the living room, I've got two bookshelves, a couch, a T.V., and a coffee table. And my bedroom consists of my bed, a nightstand, a T.V., and a bookshelf. The guest room only has one bed and a nightstand. I guess I should get more furniture, but what's the point, really? It's not like I'm going to get a girlfriend or anything...

I sip my coffee again, and sigh. A girlfriend. I haven't had one since Mauve. And that was two years ago. I miss her, a lot.

But one woman has been stuck in my head lately almost as much as her. JJ. Somehow, JJ manages to make her way into my thoughts daily. I don't know if it's because I'm starting to like her, or she's just on my mind. I really don't want to like her, though.

We have a friendship that I really don't want to ruin. And besides, she's married to Will. Even though, lately, she's been talking about than fighting a lot. I never really liked Will. I guess I sort of always hoped JJ would choose me.

I have always loved JJ, but always tried to push that thought out of my mind. I don't want to ruin our friendship. And I don't know how it will feel trying to date someone after Mauve. I suddenly feel tears prick my eyes, and I push them away angrily. I hate crying.

I hate feeling weak. But the tears don't want to stop. Within a few minutes, I'm fully crying. My coffee cup sits abandoned, half empty. Why did she have to die?

I loved her. I truly loved her. The first time I saw her face, it was beautiful. Her dark brown hair, and her brown eyes. She was beautiful.

And in our conversations, she was amazing. I I fell in love with the way she spoke and the way she laughed. As the tears keep on coming out, I feel the need to be numb. Thankfully, I still have half of that vial from yesterday. I get up, and rinse out of my coffee cup.

I grab my bag off the couch, and make my way to my room. I turn on the lamp, and put my bag on the floor. I open my nightstand drawer, looking at the various contents. For some reason, I hesitate before grabbing the brown box. I sort of hoped this was a one time thing, but how can you make doing drugs a one time thing?

You can't. I take out the box, taking one of the vials and the needle out. I sit down on my bed, and clean the needle, and wipe my arm. As I put the Dilaudid in the needle, I feel the tears come out again. I push them away.

I decide on the same spot as yesterday to inject it. Right by the crook of my elbow. I put the needle in place, and push down on it. I can feel myself smile faintly as the feeling of numbness and haziness wash over me. I feel my body fall back onto my bed, and it all goes black.

Author's note: Finally a longer chapter. I don't actually know what season Reid stopped using drugs, so tell me if I'm wrong. Thanks!


	5. Withdrawal

I sit at my desk, fidgeting with my sleeve. I haven't been able to get any work done in the past hour I've been here. Derek keeps on glancing at me, and in actually getting annoyed. I sigh. I'm probably like this from withdrawal.

I have had Dilaudid in two days. It's been about a week since I first started again. And my supply has run out. Except for the vial of heroin... I shake my head, and put my head in my hands.

"Reid, are you okay?" Derek asks, and I nod my head, not putting my head up.

"Are you sure? You seem... fidgety." He says, and I sigh angrily.

Why do they have to ask so many questions?!

"I'm fine, Derek." I say coldly.

I peek in between my fingers, to see they Derek has gone back to his work. I just want to get home, buy more Dilaudid, and make myself feel numb. Why the fuck did I have to do this again?! I'm so stupid! I put my head up, and run my hand through my hair.

I look over to Hotch's office as his door opens.

"We've got a case." He says, and strides into the meeting room.

I sigh, getting up. Of course there has to be a case! I grab my bag, walking to the meeting room hurriedly. I sit down, putting my bag beside me.

"Morning, Reid." Hoch says, gathering his papers.

"Morning." I mumble, not bothering to look at Hotch.

As the others come in, I start to tap my foot. Fuck. They are so going to notice something is wrong.

"Morning, my lovelies!" Garcia comes in, smiling.

She's wearing a yellow blouse, a silver necklace, and a pink frilly skirt. She starts to hand out tablets, each with the case file on them, and Hotch clicks the button on the remote, making the screen turn on.

"Five Women in California have been murdered, and left in alleys and parks. They're all in their late twenties, and have low- paying jobs." Hotch clicks the button on the remote, and the five Women come up, all in different places.

"They were all stabbed, and had their jewelry stolen." Hotch says, and clicks another button.

"Ashely Smith. 25. Killed on her way home from errands." Hotch points to another Woman.

She's lying behind a dumpster, in an alley, her hair in a flyaway position on the ground.

"Hannah Ferd. 28. Killed when out walking, apparently." Hotch points to a Woman in a dark alley, her clothes ripped, and bloodstains all over her body.

"Sarah Trey. 27. Killed on her way to see a friend." Hotch points to a Woman with stab wounds on her stomach.

"Danielle Gregory. 29. Killed on her way back from errands, also." Hotch says.

He then points to to the last Woman, and my heart drops. She's lying in a pile of leaves in a park, her hair messed up around her head. The leaves surround her, just like... just like me. In the cornfield. I turn away, and look at the wall.

Flashes of the memories of Tobias come back in my mind, and I start to fidget. The doctor says I still have a bit of PTSD, but I don't really want it to show. I look back at the screen, and Hotch is still explaining about the case. The Woman... her body covered in leaves... I suddenly remember Tobias hitting me in the head with a gun, and me dropping to the ground.

Until he knocked me out. My breath started to increase, and I suddenly felt dizzy.

"Reid?" I looked up to see Derek looking at me, confusion in his eyes.

"Are you okay?" He asks, and I look around to see all of the team is looking at me.

I open my mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. Just say something!

"I, uh, yeah. I'm, uh, going to get some water." I bolt up from my chair, and walk out of the meeting room swiftly.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. I can't make a scene like that! They will know something is wrong! I make my way over to the mini kitchen, and grab a cup. I pour some water in it, my hand shaking.

I can feel tears brimming in my eyes for some reason, and I sip the water. I haven't had a panic attack in months. My hands start to shake more, and I put the cup down, and put my head in my hands. The tears start to come, and I try to breathe deeply.

"Reid?" I hear Hotch's voice, but I don't look up.

"Reid, what's wrong?" I hear him walk up to me, and he puts his hand on my shoulder.

I shrug it off.

"Don't touch me." I say coldly, and try to stop my tears.

I just feel so... upset. Upset about thinking about Tobias again, upset about not having Dilaudid for two days, upset about being a complete mess. Hotch steps closer to me.

"Are you have flashbacks?" He asks, quietly, but loud enough so I can hear him.

And despite me wanting to keep the pain a secret, I nod. Hotch puts his hand on my shoulder, and this time, I don't shrug it away. I take my hands away from my face, and look at Hotch. He's looking at me with that face of concern and concentration. What if he thinks I'm being weak?

I hate being weak. Hotch guides me to his office, his hand still on my shoulder. I don't ask any questions, but instead just follow him. We walk into Hotch's office, and he shuts the door and blinds. I haven't been in here in a while.

It's still sort of the same though. Bookshelf, desk, personal things on the desk. I look out the window, trying to calm down.

"Was it the leaves?" He asks and I nod, not looking at him.

"You don't have to come on this case if you don't want to." He says, and my head snaps back to him.

"I'm going. I'm not just going do not go on a case because I'm being weak." I say, and Hotch's brow furrows.

"Reid, you have PTSD, your not being weak." He says, and I snort.

"That was seven years ago, Hotch. You would think I would be over it by now." I try not to think about it, but it's sort of hard.

"You don't just get over things that easily. And I think your just stressed, to." Hotch says.

Yeah. Right. About not having my fix.

"Right." I say, and am about to leave his office, when Hotch puts his hand on my shoulder, stopping me.

"Is there anything else going on, Reid?" He asks, and I shake my head immediately.

"No." I say, and Hotch furrows his eyebrows again.

"You haven't been acting like yourself lately. You've been... fidgety." He says, and I suddenly feel annoyed.

"You don't have to watch me all the fucking time, Hotch. I'm not a child." I say, and Hotch looks surprised.

I walk out of his office, and see the team coming out of the meeting room.

"So, when are we going?" I ask, like nothing happened, and the team looks at me with confusion.

"Uh, in five minutes." Derek says, and I nod.

I walk into the meeting room, grab my bag, and walk out of the room. I really don't want to stay and have awkward small talk, so I just walk to the jet. As I walk, I start to think about what I said to Hotch. I was sort of an asshole. Great.

Now they will totally know something's wrong. Well, nothing is wrong, I'm just needing it really badly right now.

Author's note: Please Read and Review! 


	6. The plane

We all sit on the plane, on our way to California, and I absentmindedly tap my fingers on my knee, staring out the window. I can't freak out like that again. I can't believe I cried. Wow, I'm weak. I start to tap my fingers faster, the craving getting stronger.

I don't have anything to take my mind off of it, either.

"Reid?" I look to my left to see the team staring at me, all surrounding one of the tables.

"What?" I ask.

"Are you going to join us?" Hotch asks, his brow furrowed.

I nod, and get up, sitting beside Derek. The only available spot left.

Great.

"So, all the Women were left in Alley's, except for Danielle Gregory, who was left in a park." Hotch says, and spreads out the papers.

He half covers Danielle Gregory's photo, and I know it's because of what happened earlier. Great, now they're treating me like a child again. I try to contain my annoyance, by tapping my fingers on my knee again.

"Who found them?" Derek asks Hotch, while looking at the photo's.

"Just passing pedestrians. Garcia looked them up, they all have no relation to the case." He says, and Derek nods.

"So, they're all in their late Twenties and have got low- paying jobs. The Unsub would have to have done some research about his victims." Derek says.

"Or stalked them. We could be dealing with a stalker." JJ says, and my mind starts to drift away.

Why can't I be at home, getting my fix and sleeping? At least in a few days, it's my week- long vacation. I stare out the window to the seats next to us, not wanting to look at the pictures anymore. If I did tell the team, they would for sure get me help. I don't want that.

I sort of just want to keep making myself numb. I still don't know why Jake put the heroin in my supply, as I hear it's really expensive. I haven't used it yet. I wonder if it's the same as Dilaudid?

"Reid? You there?" I bring myself back to the present, and turn to see Derek raising his eyebrows at me.

"Sorry, what?" I say, looking as Derek's face turns to concern.

"I said, have you got any input on this?" He asks, and I shake my head.

"Nope." I go back to looking out the window.

It's silent for a few seconds, and then Hotch speaks.

"Well, we haven't got any more things to look over, so let's just wait until we get to California." He says, and we all get up, going back to our seats.

I go to the back of the plane, and sit down. I really don't want to talk to anybody. I put my head on the window, closing my eyes. I'm sort of exhausted from getting no sleep last night. All I was thinking about was Dilaudid.

Jake didn't have any for the past few days, so I couldn't get any. I hate withdrawal. I sigh, and close my eyes. Might as well get some sleep before we land in California.

Author's note: Please Read and Review! Thanks! 


	7. Fight

I sat at the table in the California police station, watching as Hotch and Derek were doing the geographical profile. We're in a big office, with white walls, and big windows. It sort of reminds me of a Doctor's office.

"Reid? Want to help us do this?" Derek asks, turning around.

I sighed, getting up.

"I guess." I walk over to them, and look at the map.

"What do you think?" Derek asks, and I shrug.

"Don't really know." I say, and I start to fidget again.

Fuck, withdrawal symptoms are horrible. I really need to buy some more off of Jake... Maybe I should but more this time...

"Reid? Hello? Reid?" I blink and see Derek waving his hand by my face.

"Sorry, what?" I say, and Derek glares at me.

"Can you please stay awake? We've got a case to solve." He says coldly.

I glare at him.

"Good for us." I say sarcastically, and Derek opens his mouth, about to say something back, but Hotch interrupts us.

"Reid, can I talk to you?" He says abruptly. He walks outside the office, and glares at me.

"What was that?" He asks, in an angry tone.

"What was what?" I look at him innocently.

"You know what. Morgan is just trying to make sure your doing your best. Doesn't mean you have to be sarcastic." Hotch says and I scoff.

"Right. Thanks." I say.

Hotch sighs. "Why are you being so pissed off lately?" Hotch asks, looking at me like he's trying to read my mind.

"I'm just tired, Hotch." I say, sighing.

"You're tired." He says, more like a statement then a question.

"Yes." I say, trying to make my expression normal.

"Really? Because it seems to me that you being fidgety, being irritated, and distant, looks like you have a problem again." Hotch says, and my breath hitches.

"Problem?" I ask, like I am completely clueless.

"Yes, Reid. A problem. I think your using again." Hotch says, and anger starts to course through me.

"How dare you?! I am- I am not!" I step back from Hotch.

"Really? Because I think you are." Hotch says.

"You know what, Hotch? Go fuck yourself." I snap at him.

Hotch gaps at me, any I storm off, leaving the station.

Author's note: Short chapter, I know, but sort of eventful, right? Anyways, please Read and Review! You guys are awesome:)


	8. Mistakes at the bar

I storm down the street, anger rising inside of me. Who does Hotch think he is? I can't believe he so boldly said it. He sometimes needs to think before he says things. I sigh angrily, and adjust my shoulder bag.

I got it out of the truck before I left. Since it's my vacation in a few days, they won't notice me missing. I sighed. I hate this. I hate how I'm a total asshole all time, I hate how I'm using again, I hate how I'm always depressed.

I clench at my arms, wanting to get a release. As a sudden thought strikes my mind, I smirk. I look around the dark street, lit only by the moon and streetlights, and look for the most run- down bar. There is obviously something other then alcohol in one of them. I see a flickering sign, just down the block.

'California Bar.' was printed in neon lights, and I saw people parked outside of it. They must be open. I walk swiftly down the block, approaching the bar. I need something to take my mind off of things. As I walk into the parking lot, some heavyset guys look at me strangely.

One flicks their cigarette, and takes another puff of it. The others smirk as I walk by. I guess I'm not really the material to be at this sort of bar. I can't blame them for looking at me strangely, seeing as I'm in a grey shirt and a checkered vest. I open the bar door, and am greeted with loud music and dancing.

Typical bar. I slowly make my way over to the counter. It's weird how a few years ago I would be terrified to go into a bar alone, but I got over the fear.

"Watcha havin?" A scruffy guy in a leather jacket asks, as I sit down.

He looks like he's in his mid- thirties.

"Um, a beer..?" I say, uncertain on what I should get.

Derek usually knows all the drinks they have at the bars, but I don't go often enough to remember.

"Alright." The bartender says, and goes into the back.

I look around the bar. It looks like shit. But it looks fun, to. It's mostly filled with smoke from cigarettes, but it smells of must. I look over at the lounge area, and see a bunch of people surrounding a table, with lines of white on them.

I quickly go back to facing the counter. I knew this was that kind of bar. I could just tell. Maybe I'll somehow join them... Wait, I don't do coke.

Well, it couldn't hurt to try...? I shake my head of those thoughts. I can't get into coke to. That would fuck me up so bad. I sigh, running a hand through my hair.

"Hey." I look to my left, to see a Woman in her late twenties sit beside me.

She's actually really beautiful, which is weird, because beautiful Women don't talk to me. Her light brown hair is draped around her shoulders, and her dark brown eyes sparkle.

"Uh, hey." I say awkwardly.

"I saw you looking over at us. You wanna join?" She asks, and before any thoughts register in my brain, I nod.

"Sure." I say, and she smiles.

Oh my God. Did I actually just say yes?

"But I'm just getting my beer, first." I say, and she nods.

"I'm Zoe." She held out her hand, and I hesitate, seeing as shaking hands actually has more germs then kissing, but I want to act normal, so I smile and shake her hand.

"Spencer." I say, and the bartender comes back with my beer in a tall mug.

"Five bucks." He says gruffly, and I dig in my pocket for change or a bill, and hand him a five dollar bill.

The bartender takes it, and puts it in the cash register, and I see Zoe get up. She seems cool, I guess. I follow her to the group, feeling nervous. I've never even done coke! What if I screw up?

"Guys, this is Spencer." She says to he group, and gestures to me.

I smile awkwardly.

"Hey." I say, trying to sound normal.

"Spencer, this is James, Zack, Stan, and Quinn." She points to all her friends, and they give a nod of the head or smile in my direction.

Zoe sits beside James, and I sit in the last available spot, next to Quinn.

"So, you look new." Quinn says immediately.

I raise my eyebrows.

"What?" I ask, surprised at her boldness.

She starts to divide some of the coke.

"Your wearing a vest and have a shoulder bag. You probably haven't been here before." She says, and I nod.

"I haven't." I say, and she gives some of the coke to James, Zack, Stan, and Zoe.

Quinn uses a razor to scrape the access coke from around the tray she's using.

"So, I'm guessing you haven't done coke before, right?" She asks, and I shake my head.

"No." I say.

Quinn smiles at me.

"Don't worry. It's easy." She says and I nod.

"I'll show you." She says, and I watch her take a straw, and end down over the table.

She snorts the coke quickly, and snaps her head up. I can't believe I'm with the type of people I profile.

"See? Easy." She gives me the straw.

I feel more nervous then before, as I take the straw. I bend over the table, and snort into the straw. I shut my eyes as I feel my nose burn a bit, but I move in a straight line, and snort all the coke. After a few seconds, my mind starts to haze, and the highest feeling I've ever felt courses through my body. I see Quinn smile at me.

I can't feel my body, only my mind. Fuck. I'm so high.

Author's note: Okay, so I don't actually know what happens when you do coke. And I don't know if they have five dollar bills in America, but they have them where I come from, sooo. Please Read and Review! You guys are amazingggg:)


	9. Injured

I groan as I try to sit up, dizziness overcoming me. Where am I? The last thing I remember is... Oh God. I sit up, and see that I'm in a dark alley.

What the fuck? I suddenly feel pain throughout my body, and touch my face. Ow! I pull back my fingers to see them covered in blood. Shit.

I get up shakily, leaning on the wall for support. What the fuck happened? I look on the ground to see my bag, which is good. I look in it to find nothing missing. Good.

I thought I was mugged. I look at my arms and gasp. Their bruised everywhere, and their are fresh marks everywhere. Needle marks. Oh my God. What did I do?

I try to walk out of the alley, to find out my leg hurts like a bitch. I limp slowly out of the alley, and look around. It doesn't look like I'm to far from the bar. Shit. How am I going to get home? I live in fucking Las Vegas. I walk over to a bus stop, thinking of what I should do.

I can't call a cab. I lean my head on the pole. A soft sob emits from my mouth, and I feel tears go down my cheeks. A sudden thought comes to mind, and even though I really don't want to, I know I need to. I walk over to a pay- phone, and reach in my pockets for change.

I put the $1.25 in, and dial Aaron Hotchner's number. He's going to be so pissed at me. It rings a few times before answering.

"Hello?" Hotch asks, and I can feel the tears going down my face.

"Hotch?" I say, my voice cracking.

"Spencer?" He asks with worry in his tone.

"Yeah. I- I need help, Hotch. I'm- I'm..." I start to cry, feeling hurt and sad.

"Where are you, Spencer? Are you okay?" Hotch sounds urgent and worried, and I push the tears out of my eyes.

"Can you pick me up by 'California Bar.', in California? I'm so sorry, Hotch. I'm sorry." I sob into the phone.

"It's okay, Spencer. I'll be there soon." He says, and hangs up.

I put the phone back on its holder, and walk out of the phone booth. I sit on the bus stop bench, and huddle up in the cold night. Why the fuck do I do this to myself.

Author's note: Finally, the story is progressing:) Sorry I don't update regularly, I'm usually busy. But thanks for sticking around! I love when people appreciate my writing, it's amazing. So, thanks guys! You're all amazing! Read and Review!:)


	10. Waking up

I open my eyes, as the sound of a coffee machine wakes me up. What the...? Where am I? I sit up on the black leather sofa, looking around. It takes me a few seconds to remember, and as I do, I sigh, closing my eyes.

"Morning, Reid." I hear Hotch say from the kitchen, and I look over at him, blushing.

The events of last night come back to me, and I start to feel the pain through my body.

"Morning." I mumble.

"How are you feeling?" Hotch asks, any I shrug, getting up.

Or not. I gasp as I feel a pain shoot through my foot.

"Fuck." I say silently, and sit back on the couch.

"Is it your ankle?" He asks, walking over to me.

I nod.

"I've got your crutches here." He says, and walks over to the door, getting two metal crutches.

I thank him, taking them. I've had some practice with crutches, because of the time I got shot in the leg. I stand up wobbly, and put the crutches under my arms. I can feel the pain in my ribs now, and I wince.

"I've got pain medication if you want some." Hotch says, looking at me.

I nod.

"Alright." I say, and hop over to the kitchen.

Hotch goes into the cupboard, taking out a bottle of pills. He gives me two, and a glass of water. I have no idea why Hotch is being nice to me. I sort of called him at one in the morning and cried on his shoulder like a child. I sigh, wincing as pain shot through my ribs.

I take the pills, and watch as Hotch puts a plate of bacon, eggs, and toast, in front of me. I look at him.

"You don't have to do this." I say to him, any Hotch walks over to the cupboard.

"Do what?" He takes out two mugs, pouring coffee into them.

"Be nice to me. I sort of called you, and got you to pick me up all beat up. And then cried on your shoulder like a child." I say, and Hotch sighs.

"So, I'm guessing you want to talk about last night?" He asks, and I shrug.

Hotch goes into the fridge, pulling out the milk.

"Three cream, three sugar, right?" Hotch asks and I nod. That's weird... he remembers how I take my coffee.

I suddenly realize something.

"Where's Jack?" I ask, looking around.

"He's at his Aunt's did the week." Hotch says.

"You didn't waste my time or anything, if that's what your asking, by the way. I gladly picked you up. I don't want to see you hurt." Hotch pours in the milk and sugar into both of our mugs, and gives me my coffee.

"Right, thanks." The sarcasm is light, but I think Hotch can sense it.

Hotch looks at me.

"Do you remember what happened at all?" He asks, and I try to think back.

After I did the coke, it was sort of a blur. I remember dancing, and drinking.

"Not really. Well, nothing important. I don't know who beat me up." I say, looking at my breakfast.

I start to pick at it with my fork, eating bits of it. I'm not that hungry, and this conversation is making me even less hungry. Hotch looks deep in thought.

"Can you tell me why you did coke?" Hotch says, in a conversational tone, and not accusingly.

I shrug.

"I wanted to try it, I guess. And I sort of wanted of feel numb..." I trail off, and eat a piece of bacon.

"You wanted to feel numb? Why?" Hotch starts to eat his own breakfast, but still looking at me.

I shrug.

"I was... sad. Angry. Of what you said back at the police station." I look away from Hotch.

"I'm sorry I said that. I... we, the team, are all worried about you. I needed to know they you are using again." I feel my heart clench at that.

No one was supposed to know.

"You weren't supposed to know, Hotch. No one was." I look at Hotch.

"Why? We could have helped you." Hotch furrows his eyebrows.

"Who said I wanted help?" I say bitterly.

The room goes quiet. Hotch just stares at me. I look away. It's quiet for a few minutes before Hotch speaks.

"Is this about Maeve?" He says, and I can tell he's trying to be gentle with this.

I shrug.

"Multiple things." I sip my coffee, loving the feeling of the hot liquid going down my throat.

"Like what?" Hotch asks, staring at me. I think for a minute.

I've sort of found out the things that lead me to start using again, but I don't exactly know.

"I hate myself. That's number one. Number two, Maeve. Number three, I'm just sort of sad. Number four, probably work." I watch as Hotch processes what I just said.

He's probably going to tell me I'm weak.

"Why do you hate yourself?" He asks, and I laugh bitterly.

"Look at me Hotch! I look like shit. Everything about me. My body, my personality, is shit." I shake my head, smiling sadly.

"Your not shit, Reid. Your one of the smartest people I know-" I cut Hotch off.

"That's it, isn't it? I'm just smart, right? I'm nothing else to you guys. I might look smart, Hotch, but I'm pretty sure I'm fucking stupid, judging by last night." Hotch looked surprised, then glares at me.

"You know that's not true, Reid. I was just listing one of your qualities. You're not just smart. Your funny, nice, and I think of you like my Son." Hoch says.

My mouth gaps open. He said he thought of me like his Son. How could I be that important to him? I look down.

"Why do we do this, Hotch?" I ask.

"Do what?"

"Live. Why do we live if some of us fuck up so badly, that we just don't want to anymore?" I don't look at at Hotch, but instead study my plate.

"Reid, are you suicidal?" Hotch asks quietly, and I shrug.

I look up slowly, to see Hotch is looking at me with concern. I look away, trying not to cry. I trust Hotch, but I don't want him to think different of me or anything. I get up, deciding to leave. I should go back to Las Vegas, anyways.

Before I can say anything, Hotch gets up, and hugs me. I stand there, surprised. Why is he hugging me? But somehow, I know I need comfort, so I hug him back.

"Thank you, Hotch." I whisper, and he hugs me tighter.

"I really do think of you like my son, Spencer. And I hate to see you hurting." He says, and the tears come out of my eyes, going onto my cheeks then Hotch's T- shirt.

"Thanks." I say quietly, still holding onto Hotch.

Maybe if I have the team with me, I can get through this.

Author's note: Please Read and Review:) 


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